


The Sleeper Hit

by readfah_cwen



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, and silly onesided Kurt/Blaine, background Kurt/OMC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2000730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readfah_cwen/pseuds/readfah_cwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the sweet musical stylings of Taylor Swift fail, and Blaine’s the best birthday gift a guy can get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sleeper Hit

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ever lovely mothergoddamn for her birthday! ♥ She actually saw this early and contributed a line, see if you can spot it as it's the best bit! 
> 
> **Warnings:** Inebriated (consensual) sex.

  
Kurt Hummel was a little shit.

There. Blaine had thought it. His best friend and like of his life was a turd. He was entirely unworthy of Blaine's admittedly amazing self. "You know what? You're a little shit," Blaine told Kurt, raising his glass pointedly. Kurt for his part ignored Blaine, leaning in further into this stupid, tall muscled stranger's personal space and cackling like a sexy hyena. So unfair. That guy was barely a nine out of ten, with that stupid mouth and that stupid shaggy blond hair.

Really though, what kind of asshole just flirted with other men in front of the possible like of their life? Was it the undefined nature of their (non-)relationship? That just wasn't fair. Blaine was at least twenty percent compatible with Kurt, according to online matchmaking tests. The first twenty naturally, the other eighty hard work -- like every relationship ever. Why couldn't Kurt see that he belonged with Blaine?

"Are you okay Blaine?" Kurt looked over his shoulder, confused. "I could have sworn I heard you singing Taylor Swift, and you only do that when you're sad."

Blaine swooned, though the sensation might have been simulated by the vodka water he had been knocking back. Kurt knew him so well. He opened his mouth to answer, but Mr Only A Nine out of Ten touched Kurt's arm to get his attention back and Kurt all but threw himself into those pumped-up arms and crying take me now! Blaine was mad. What was so appealing about some muscle-bound jock? (Mr Only a Nine out of Ten played rugby. How unbelievably and pukingly intense.) Nothing, that's what.

Well fine if Kurt wanted this guy. They could enjoy their nineteen percent compatible-ness while Blaine went and danced the drama away. He was a hot piece of action, he would have to land someone to grind with. With a scowl, Blaine set his glass down, licked his finger so he could smooth down his eyebrows and then practiced his smolder in the mirror wall behind the bar. Yup -- still as perfect as ever.

Confidence restored despite Kurt's cruel dismissal, Blaine stalked out onto the dance floor, scanning the crowd. He needed someone that would make Kurt jealous. A gorgeous guy, very tall and lithe and dressed in leather, smiled at Blaine. He bore a striking resemblance to Kurt. Excellent.

"Looking for some fun?" The guy purred, barely heard over the pounding music when Blaine stalked his way over, giving Blaine the world's longest, slowing eyefucking. _Excellent._ This getting over Kurt thing was going to be a breeze! Blaine smirked.

"Yeah," Blaine said, stepping closer and letting his hands settle on the guy's hips. "I'm Blaine by the way."

The guy laughed. "No, what you are is not for me."

"What?" Blaine pulled back, self-consciously reached up to check his hair. The guy shook his head.

"You're hot and all, but I need to pass." Blaine scowled. He knew he should have worn his lifts. Nobody would reject him then. "No, see that guy in the corner? Big, hulking? It's his birthday, and he's gay as the sun is hot, but he's not really making a move on anyone. And you're so his type. Wanna go dance with him a little? Make his night? I'm trying out this whole being a good friend thing, and promised to get him something."

Blaine squinted in the direction the guy was pointing. Past the writhing bodies and the dimly lit air he could see a big man with a wide jaw and neat hair, wearing a scowl and a dull outfit of black jeans and a t-shirt. On the scale of one to Kurt, he rated a five. Maybe one or two more if you threw in the fact that he would undeniably tower over Blaine.

Maybe it was that thought, or the vodka currently marinating his brain, but Blaine turned back to the guy next to him and nodded seriously. "I'll make his night _so hard_ , he'll never bother with another birthday again because it wouldn't compare to my awesome self."

The guy smiled and slapped Blaine cheerfully on the ass. "Go get 'em, tiger." With that, Blaine was off, pushing past bodies and at one point ending up in a grinding three-way with a pair of attractive men. Blaine was very tempted to stay, forgetting for a few minutes exactly why he had come out on the dance floor in the first place, but then a _Birthday Sex_ /trance song mash-up started to play and it was like a lightbulb going off. "Sorry, sorry," Blaine said as he extricated himself from the two men, continuing his journey.

The guy was sitting at a table on a slightly raised area, and Blaine stumbled his way up the ledge and finally reached the birthday boy's side, finding him drinking some overly manly drink and watching the dancing men with a drink- or lust-glazed gaze. Hard to tell, and the fact that the strobe lights had just come on to great cheers made it even harder. Blaine felt a headache brewing, and winced. This was why he tried to get Kurt to go on the epilepsy-free nights, but Kurt was a sadist (and not just because of his large collection of whips and paddles.)

"Hey there," Blaine said, leaning against the small table the guy was perched at. No response, which was off-putting as it made the guy seem even more intimidating than his size already did. "I said hey there," Blaine repeated, poking the guy in the arm. "What's a, er, cutie like you off to the side?"

"Drinking," the guy grunted, then took a long sip as if to prove it. Blaine barely contained an eye-roll. Thank you, Captain Obvious. "Whatever, Sergeant Sarcasm," the guy said, glaring at Blaine, who blinked. Oh, had he said that out loud?

"It's Blaine, actually," Blaine said, flashing his most winning smile. The guy looked flustered, and Blaine's smile grew. This would be a piece of cake. He wondered if Kurt could see them from the bar.

"Karofsky," the guy said, pointing to himself.

"That's Polish, right?" Blaine asked, squinting. "I'll take Polish for two thousand."

Karofsky sneered. "Yeah, and what's Blaine, eighteenth century?"

"Scottish," Blaine corrected. "No offense meant man, I just -- it's cool, like a cage fighter name. You could be a cage fighter, I’ve known some in my time, I box you know? And you have the muscles." Blaine slid his hand down Karofsky's arm to prove this, and Karofsky shivered slightly.

After that an awkward silence fell. "Um, so do you come here often?" This guy was adorable! Well once you got past him looking like a linebacker on scare-roids. Blaine squeezed the arm beneath his hand, and oh yeah, that wasn't a problem at all.

"Yep. Come here with my sort-of boyfriend," Blaine said. It was only fair to be up-front that he was involved. Karofsky's frown deepened and Blaine bit back a sigh. After all, it did blow that a guy like him was off the market. "We're not dating per se, but it's a matter of time. Tonight I used some TSwift and I think it worked better than Katy or P!nk."

"What?"

"They're singers," Blaine explained patiently. "They sing son--"

"I know who they are," Karofsky snapped. "I just -- I mean, you're pretty hot. If you've fucking serenaded the guy and he isn't interested, you should give up. Otherwise it's embarrassing. Seriously dude, Taylor Swift? That's embarrassing."

"That's a lot of embarrassing," Blaine said, as doubt flickered in his mind. Since this seating area was raised, he had clear line of sight to the bar past the flashing colours. Kurt was still there, not even bothering with dancing, just sitting there and talking deeply with Mr Nine out of Ten. Weirdly, the fact that they _weren't_ grinding made Blaine's stomach clench. "Do you see, um, at the bar, he's wearing leather and lace and talking to that blond guy who's only a nine out of ten?"

"The pretty dude?" Karofsky asked, leaning forward and squinting. "Flapping his arms?"

"Isn't he graceful?" Blaine slumped against the table. "He's my best friend."

"Well you're probably going to be his best man," Karofsky said, settling back in his chair. "Looks ready to bend over for that guy then and there."

"You're depressing me," Blaine whined. "Stop it. I just wanted to dance with you."

"Even though you have an almost-boyfriend?" Karofsky asked.

"Even though," Blaine agreed, trying to pull Karofsky up. It seemed his hand was unsteady though and slipped, hitting Karofsky's chest. It then lingered there, slowly dragging down until it reached a belt. Fingers hooked, he looked up to meet Karofsky's eyes. "Oops," Blaine said, tugging at the belt. "I think I'm stuck."

"Yeah." Karofsky said, then looked at his drink as if he was confused be proceedings. Blaine didn't think there was much confusing about this at all, but that might be because the more he looked at Karofsky the higher his drunken brain rated the guy. Now on a scale of one to Kurt, this guy was an eight, which was well within his "let’s do it" category.

"C'mon, I wanna dance," Blaine said, yanking, and Karofsky stumbled to his feet, drink hitting the floor. Neither of them paid attention to that, too busy navigating off of the ledge without falling. Blaine's thumb began to slowly drag along Karofsky's fly, and he could feel that it was most definitely noticed. Maybe this night wouldn't be a waste. Blaine laughed happily at the thought.

"What's so funny," Karofsky half-shouted as they were pressed up together by the mass of writhing bodies, Blaine's hand leaving the guy's belt so he could drape his arms over his broad shoulders. The fact that this was a reach made heat slip down his spine, and he slowly began to grind against Karofsky. "What's funny?" Karofsky repeated, cheeks a little pink.

Blaine couldn't remember why Karofsky was asking him this."The Three Stooges. I like the slapstick," Blaine said with a grin, because one couldn't remember Curly getting hit with a coconut without being cheered up immediately. Karofsky stared, then grinned too. He had a lovely smile.

"I like 'em too," Karofsky announced. "Mo was the best."

"Nuh-uh, Curly," Blaine said. "He made the best faces."

"Your hair's curly, and you have a great face," Karofsky mused, and then the broad hands on Blaine's hips (and when had those gotten there?) twitched. "I’m really not drunk enough to say stuff like that, actually. I'm more embarrassing than you."

"Well you are so you must be," Blaine said. Then he cocked his head to the side and shot a sly look at Karofsky. "What were you drinking? Can I have a taste?"

"It spilled, I think," Karofsky said, trying to look back over to the table. Blaine's hand against his jaw stopped him, and Karofsky blinked slowly. Then that hand was sliding back around his neck, and pulling him down to a kiss. The angle they were at was a bit uncomfortable, Blaine having to push himself up on his tippy-toes and Karofsky having to move his hands to Blaine's lower back to help him stay steady, but Blaine didn't care.

The kiss was hot and wet, and their lips slid together perfectly, and when Karofsky parted his lips and pulled Blaine closer, Blaine flicked out his tongue and tasted whiskey. Yep, definitely a too-manly drink. Blaine was hard when they finally separated, and fell back onto his heels with a small noise and a roll of his hips that left Karofsky groaning.

"These lights are making my head hurt," Blaine declared, finger curling in the hair at the nape of Karofsky's neck. "Take me somewhere _quieter_."

Karofsky nodded, eyes dark as he began to back-step his way out of the crowd, never letting go of Blaine's waist. They were pushing people aside quite rudely, but Blaine figured that no man here could blame them because it was clear they were about to fuck and it was entirely understandable why they weren't Ms Manners at the moment.

They eventually made it to a dimly lit hallway occupied by a few other pairs of men, and Blaine tried to direct them to the bathroom but then Karofsky had him pinned against the wall, heavy and solid as he panted against Blaine's hair. Blaine squirmed, pressing kisses randomly against Karofsky's jaw as he tried to shift himself to the proper angle. Karofsky helped, big hands finding their way down to Blaine's ass and lifting him up, and Blaine's legs fell open automatically so Karofsky could step between them, grinding against the curve of Blaine's ass.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Karofsky groaned, before Blaine found his mouth again, sloppily kissing as Karofsky began to rock against him. Then Karofsky pulled back, mouthing at Blaine's neck and trailing heat along Blaine's heat-tight skin. "Why the fuck would that guy ever turn you down?"

"Who?" Blaine asked dizzily, legs wrapping tighter around Karofsky's hips as he slumped back, a choked breath escaping him as Karofsky's next thrust rocked him along his crack. Thank god for tight pants, because he could feel everything and get the rasp of fabric along his cock. "I don't know -- Kurt!"

Karofsky stopped trying to fuck Blaine through three layers and lifted his head, staring at Blaine in disbelief. "What the hell?" Blaine wasn't looking at him though, because over the broad plane of Karofsky's shoulder he could see Kurt, lips and cheeks bright red and shirt rucked up to his armpits, in a similar situation to Blaine as Mr Nine Out of Ten scraped teeth along his nipple, though Kurt was guiding the guy with a firm hand in his hair.

Wow. Blaine hadn't really paid attention to the other people in the back hall (he had mostly forgotten they were even there) but now he realized that Kurt had been getting thoroughly debauched not six feet away on the other wall. Kurt's eyes opened at Blaine's voice, looking over with a dazed expression. "Blaine?"

"Who?" Mr Nine Out of Ten asked, straightening. He looked over his shoulder, blond hair falling into his eyes as squinted over at Blaine and Karofsky. "Isn't that your hobbit friend?"

"Get a haircut," Blaine snapped, trying to raise himself so he could glare better at Mr Nine, but he couldn't seem to hold the position and slid back down again, and the hard line of Karofsky's cock reminded him of what they had been up to. "Kurt, I think I'll be home late tonight," Blaine groaned, and Kurt nodded.

"Yeah, uh, me too." Kurt said, then looked to Mr Nine. "Can we go back to your place?" Blaine blinked, because Kurt never went home with guys -- he said leaving the club or bar was a sign of too much interest. Blaine had left many pamphlets lying around that said things like _Commitmentphobia: The One The DSM-IV Missed Out On!_ but it hadn't changed Kurt's ways yet.

"No problem," Mr Nine said as Kurt fixed his shirt and awkwardly.

"Oh, and Kurt?" Blaine added as they began to leave. Kurt looked over, raising an eyebrow. "Condom?"

"I can't believe you were a boy scout," Kurt grumbled, but reached into his back pocket and somehow produced a condom from the tight confines of fabric. He tossed it at Blaine, who caught it over Karofsky's shoulder and then pocketed it.

"Thanks."

Kurt smiled, then gave a pat to frowning Mr Nine’s excellent bum as they headed out the fire door at the end of the hall. Blaine turned back to Karofsky once they had left, rocking his hips. "So where were we?" Blaine purred.

"I," Karofsky began, breath hitching when Blaine rocked again. "That was the weirdest fucking thing ever."

"Huh?" Blaine asked, because really, if walking in on each other getting it on was weird he and Kurt were beyond bizarre.

"Let's just -- not in public --" Karofsky looked over his shoulder at another couple down the hall, and stepped back, still holding on to Blaine. Blaine squeaked, arms tightening around Karofsky and legs locking as he held on, not wanting to drop. Karofsky carried him down the hall a few steps, toward an unremarkable door, and pushed Blaine against it.

The door was a swinging one and the force slammed it open, making them fall into a spacious washroom. If there hadn't been a half-wall opposite the door they probably would have hit the floor, but as was they landed against it, and then they were kissing again. Blaine twisted his hand in the collar of Karofsky's t-shirt as he pulled himself up slightly, changing the angle of the kiss. Karofsky, hands tensing on Blaine's ass, began to walk them toward a stall, and when they found an unoccupied one they were in it in a second, Blaine slammed against the door by a very eager Karofsky.

Blaine's hand dropped to fumble with the lock, his coordination beyond shot between his drunk state and his achingly hard dick. Karofsky reached down to clumsily do something that brushed his knuckles along Blaine's ass. There was the sound of a zipper coming undone, then rustling fabric, and the clink of metal hitting tile, and Blaine's head thumped back against the door. Oh.

"Fuck," Karofsky hissed as he grabbed Blaine firmly again, grinding against him. Blaine groaned, hand wrestling with his fly. "Shit, sorry, here --" Karofsky said, knocking Blaine's hand aside in order to pop the button and yank down the zipper. There was a snapping sound, and Karofsky swore again even as he tugged at the waist of his pants. When he realized Blaine wasn't wearing underwear, he sucked in a breath that was exhaled shakily as his big hand wrapped around Blaine's cock and pulled him out.

"Just -- just," Blaine took a few moments to think it through, then let go of Karofsky to grab the top of stall door, pulling himself up with trembling arms. "Pull them down," Blaine said with a gasp, and Karofsky's widened eyes snapped down as he shimmied Blaine's pants down to his thighs. It was the best they could manage, and Blaine sank back down onto Karofsky's hands while bringing his knees up awkwardly. It took some readjusting to get Blaine's lower half at a good angle, and ended with Blaine slumped so low against the stall door that he was actually looking up into Karofsky's eyes again, which was just one of those Mellencamp-esque hurts so good things.

Then he didn't care much about that at all, because Karofsky's strong fingers were on his bare ass, trying to spread him. "Condom," Blaine snapped. "Be kind, rewind your dick."

"What?" Karofsky asked, then looked around. "Wait, where the fuck is it then?"

"Front pocket," Blaine said, and he would have gotten it himself but he was too busy holding his arms stiffly at his sides and trying not to fall. It might have been easier if Karofsky set him down, but he liked it like this, liked having Karofsky's large weight bearing down on him, and really fucking loved how strong the guy was. "Please hurry."

"Okay, okay." Karofsky shifted so he could hold Blaine up one-handed (swoon) and then got the condom out. There was some more balancing then, Karofsky's arms starting to tremble and Blaine mostly unconcerned about falling to the floor because then they could just fuck against something hard without fear of gravity. Not that there was much fear. Just a sort of amusement on Blaine's part, so he snickered as he squirmed into an easier position. "This thing is sealed up like a fucking nun, don't laugh," Karofsky said sourly, then shoved it in Blaine's face. "Open it your fucking self."

Blaine frowned but did just that, biting on the edge and yanking his head to the side, a slight tearing noise telling him he had succeeded. He spat out the plastic strip and then grinned at Karofsky cockily. "There."

"Um -- what if it tore?" Karofsky asked, squinting at the condom he had managed to extract.

"Do me freakin' bareback then, just stop. talking." Blaine pushed himself off the stall door, knees digging into his chest as he smashed his lips against Karofsky. Karofsky gave a startled groan but returned the kiss enthusiastically, a hand pressing against Blaine's back to keep him upright. When they pulled apart Blaine's hands settled on Karofsky's shoulders, and he gave a brilliant smile. "Though I should add I practiced that move a lot and am really quite proud of it.”

"Yeah?" Karofsky removed his hand from Blaine's back to stare at the condom while the other tightened thoughtfully on Blaine's ass. Blaine moaned, then a little louder for good measure, so this guy would just _do it._ Then Karofsky shook his head and the hand disappeared and some more jostling and the jerk of Karofsky's shoulder under Blaine's hand told him that he was rolling the condom on. "You're lucky I'm feeling nice."

"You're lucky I'm patient," Blaine replied, and then finally, _finally_ , Karofsky was going for it, hands firm as he spread Blaine, hard cock sliding up along Blaine's too-hot skin. Blaine groaned, pressing down into Karofsky's hands as the blunt tip slipped against his hole, before it centered and began to push inside. Blaine cried out, and Karofsky froze.

"You're -- ready," Karofsky breathed raggedly, and Blaine reopened eyes he hadn't realized he had closed in order to shoot him a wounded look.

"I'm very ready, go for it." Blaine tried to wiggle his hips pointedly, but Karofsky had a tight hold on him.

"No -- but -- when," Karofsky pressed closer which also pressed him deeper, and a low whine burned Blaine's throat as he tried to move. Tried being the key word, because his knees were level with his chest and big arms and wide hands had him trapped. It would be heavenly, only if this guy would _move_.

"Before I came. In case Kurt--" The rest of his words choked into a moan as Karofsky suddenly thrust, sinking in deeper. He was red-faced and scowling at Blaine when Blaine looked to him. "Wha--?"

"Stop fucking talking 'bout him," Karofsky gritted out, feet shuffling as he pressed closer. "I'm serious. Dude's probably -- you know, he's fucking away, why would you even think that?"

"Because brain and brain," Blaine mumbled, head tipping back. The stretch, the long slow slide of Karofsky filling him up was perfect. If Karofsky was going to question that (why would he?) it died as he rocked up, grunting softly. Blaine made a small noise in return, then louder, because he had fingered himself hours ago and Karofsky was _big._ "I can't b--" he had to stop, inhaling sharply as Karofsky's cock nudged that spot which made his mind melt. He tried again. "I can't believe you would have stuck that in me without _ah_ -anything," Blaine muttered as he pouted, vowels drawn out gaspingly and a moan hitching his words at the end.

"Just shut up, okay?" Karofsky snapped, and Blaine opened his mouth to reply but Karofsky gripped tight and slammed upwards, whole body rocking with the motion and making Blaine thump against the door. Blaine cried out, again and again as Karofsky fucked him into the stall door with these low whines at each sweet drag of Karofsky pulling out only to push back in. It seemed impossible to focus on anything but the grip of Karosfsky's hands and the the sweat which trickled down his neck as he squirmed, trying to sink lower and take more in, and fuck if the stretch of it, filling him up and pressing everywhere wasn't perfect.

Blaine knew he wouldn't last, no way he could, but he still needed Karofsky to touch him. He whined, digging his fingers into Karofsky's shoulders and trying to get him to do something, but Karofsky seemed focused entirely on fucking Blaine. "Please -- please--" Blaine tried, as heat shot up as his spine straight to his brain with each thrust and made talking hard. "I need-- oh god -- I need, please --"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Karofsky said. There was some shuffling of his hands that changed angles and Blaine groaned low and filthy and then a hand was squeezing between his folded-up legs to curl around his cock. "Fuck," Karofsky said as a shudder swept Blaine's body, coming out as a trembling moan. He was close, so close, and judging by the way Karofsky was panting while erratically jerking at Blaine's cock, Karofsky wasn't far behind.

Blaine closed his eyes and thought not of England, or Kurt, and not even really Karofsky. He wasn't really thinking of anything, just living in each push closer to the edge, spilling over and doubling back on himself, focusing on each sensation at once in that brilliant way that only happened when the world was topsy. He was so involved in that it caught him off guard when he came, mind blanking and mouth falling out as he cried out, sound then trailing off into a ragged moan that echoed around the sounds of Karofsky taking his last few thrusts. Blaine clung to him weakly, unable to do anything to help him along except make small, encouraging noises.

Then Karofsky pushed in a final time, shuddering and grunting and stilling inside Blaine. They remained pressed against each other for a long moment, panting, Blaine reaching up to pet at Karofsky’s short hair. Karofsky sighed, a weirdly gentle sound coming from him, and pulled free with a sticky, tugging sensation Blaine normally hated but was just kind of fantastic in the afterglow and the alcohol.

“Whee,” Blaine cheered quietly as Karofsky set him down, stumbling and needing to catch himself against the stall door when his feet hitting the floor sent shockwaves up to his sore ass. “Mm, nice.”

“Um,” Karofsky seemed confused, wiping off the hand that Blaine had come on against the (already nasty) wall, then pulled the condom off. “Hate this, it’s like cheese off pizza. Ew.” Karofsky tied it off and tossed it, uncaring, into the toilet behind him. Blaine giggled almost maniacally, somehow finding the strength to tug his pants back up, as Karofsky did the same, tucking himself away and doing up his fly. Blaine watched his cock disappear sadly as he did the same with his own.

“So, uh-“ Karofsky rubbed at the back of his neck as Blaine zipped up his fly. “This was -- really fucking weird.” The corner of his lip wavered upward as he stared down at Blaine. “Not that I’m complaining, but--“

“Happy birthday!” exclaimed Blaine, slapping a hand to his forehead and then wincing at the slight sting that brought. “I completely forgot. And your friend sent me over for that specif—specifa—especially!”

“Jesus!” Karofsky took a step back, staring at Blaine with wide eyes. “Were you my present? Did he pay for you?”

“What? Oh, ew, no! This was—“ He twirled a finger and indicated to the cubicle. “It was, ah, it was—“

“Fun?” Karofsky asked amused, his eyebrow raised. His whole being seeming less tense and defensive since they had fucked. And Blaine liked that. He liked it a lot.

“Kurt’s not going to be home,” he blurted.

For a moment, Karofsky stared at him, his jaw tightening slightly. “Yeah?” he said the flippancy just a tad too forced. “That’s too bad.”

“Our apartment will be empty,” continued Blaine, allowing his face to break into a wide grin. “Nobody’s home!”

“Are you asking me to, like, house sit for you or something?”

“No.” Blaine stepped forward, slipping his arms around Karofsky’s waist and drawing him nearer. “I’m saying how about we head back to mine and I’ll give you the birthday bumps?” Blaine frowned. That had sounded hotter in his head. “I mean sex. Let’s head back to mine and have sex.”

Karofsky’s arms wrapped around his back, a hand slipping down the base of his spine and dipping slyly into Blaine’s waistband, skin ghosting over skin. “Okay. Sure. I can live that.”

Blaine smiled as Karofsky pulled him into a kiss. On a scale of one to Kurt, Karofsky was _definitely_ a sleeper hit.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr link](http://boldmistakes.tumblr.com/post/92514289126/the-sleeper-hit-blainofsky-1-1)


End file.
